C'era Una Volta
by Devin Trinidad
Summary: Italia Romano is a dreamer, a fighter, a rural laborer-a nation with too much riding on his young shoulders, with eyes that have seen too much. (Romano character study)


Once upon a time, because that's how most stories go, his eyes were the color of sun warmed mud after a torrential rain. His skin was faintly sun kissed and soft; hair, the color of deep chestnut with strands of intertwining russet and amber. His legs were tottering little things; arms, weak; body, supple from the fruit of budding childhood.

He was found in the middle of a rapidly growing civilization, of an empire that was steadily amassing a power that would awe the world for generations. Back then, he was small, almost deceptively so. However, his mind was sharp, wit even more so. When that hulking empire found him, his first instinct was to attack and defend himself.

But, while he may have been the protagonist of this particular "once upon a time", it surely wasn't his time to start winning battles—much less wars. The empire ( _grand_ and _powerful_ and so _**very amused**_ ) merely picked him up by the waist and held him out for the world to see.

A successor, the empire had grandly stated.

A legacy that would remind future generations the might of his own power.

For it is in this "once upon a time", he was a mere princeling with dreams as big as the empire that had held him.

* * *

Once upon a time, he cries to himself as he watches as the empire ( _great_ and _mighty_ and _all encompassing_ and gone, _gone_ , _**gone**_ ), his eyes are the colors of dull, rustic, dried blood. They are rimmed with red—red from crying, swollen from grief. His body is still so small, still so vulnerable to _Nations_ and armies swarming around his territories for the right to consume him—to attain his inheritance, to attain what was once the empire's.

Still, he grows. He learns. He neither cracks nor bends under the threat of dissolution or death.

His brethren to the north fight and rip each other to shreds, like rabid animals staking their claim on feverish prey. Empires, smaller and not as powerful, rule and fall many times over while he watches steadily from the south.

Rural one, laborer, worker of the fields. His house is not as grand or as splendid as the north, but his house is stable—he does not tear apart his siblings to the south without good reason.

Time passes; he grows stronger still. He is a full-grown prince with full reign of his kingdom.

This once upon a time has an ending that is deceptively a "happily ever after".

* * *

Once upon another time, for this story comes a bit after the tale of a once all-encompassing empire and the days of when he was his own kingdom, his eyes were the color of hazel; a color which represented the dried earth when little green shoots of grass begin to sprout from the ground. His skin is darker from days spend out under the sun; hair ever darker, almost pitch; body, lengthening and filling out in ways befitting that of a rural laborer. But there are days when he _shakes_ and he _trembles_ and he can't work as well as he should. (Those are the days when his eyes darken and swirl in murky pools of brown and tears).

He is older, much older than when he was first found by the empire ( _great_ and _withstanding_ and _powerful_ yet _**powerless**_ against the chains of time and constraints of what he can actually control). He is no longer child, but not quite man. He is not his own person—not yet. Under another's rule, he tends to the fields, picks the fruits of his labors, and chomps at the bit.

 _This ruler_ is a fool with dreams that pale in comparison to the once empire—a shadow of an empire's greatness. _He_ travels the continents and stakes his claim in the New World and in parts of Africa and Asia, often disappearing for months at a time.

These are the days when he wishes that once upon a time could hurry up and come back to him—either empire would do.

* * *

Then time changes once again and once upon a time is brought forth in an era of tug and war, of changing allegiances, and reuniting with siblings best left forgotten. During this time, he is plagued with turbulence and anxiety. Siblings from his territories and _**his**_ territories are slowly amassed and added into one conglomeration (they are _consumed_ and _made whole_ in this twisted version of _**happily ever after**_ ). Siblings, once hated, once loved, are now gone and hidden away in their psyches. What has made them unique is now embedded into their _National_ consciousness.

During this time, his eyes are ever changing. As siblings within his territories submit and fall, they become him (or perhaps it's _the other way around_ ). Sometimes, his eyes fall dark into the abyss of murky mud, other times, they are fierce and sharp as newly cut emeralds. There are days when he refuses to look in the mirror—all he can see is the eyes of whatever fallen sibling he has conquered glaring at him, hating him.

However, for as much grief his eyes give him, he cannot deny that his body is stronger and more stable now. He grows lean and tall, his strength is not fleeting and he is truly the grandson of the once mighty empire.

It is here, in this once upon a time, that he wishes that this story had a much quicker and bloodless ending.

* * *

Once upon a time is a far off dream at this point. The world has been torn apart, split into pieces, and hastily pasted back together again. His eyes are a bright forest green, reminiscent of grass in the early spring, of stems of young tomato plants, and in the eyes of his old mentor, now equal and compatriot. His hair is still dark, but the color is now an even tone, all around dark brown that reminds him of newly upturned earth in preparation of sowing the season's crops. His body, once disease ridden and shaky, stands tall and strong. He bends under the heat of sun, but carefully plants his tomato plants with strong, sure fingers—fingers that once upon a time could swing swords into the midst of his enemies.

Once upon a time no longer has a whimsical tone to the phrase. There are no images of pretty ladies in frilly dresses, of regal princes riding astride strong horses. There are only the sounds of gunshots, of the dying gasps of war-hardened men, and the faint cries of dreams no longer being realized.

Once upon a time, he was unwittingly loyal to a once (this one _isn't his_ , _**never his**_ , but his stupid little brother's) empire (now _disgraced_ , now _downtrodden_ , and now _completely_ _ **insane**_ ). Once upon a time, he followed unfalteringly after his younger sibling, but now he hesitates and makes his move.

Once upon a time has never felt so lonely, so traitorous. However, this once upon a time ends with him (and his stupid little brother) coming out of the battlefield ( _bruised_ and _hurt_ and _war torn_ and so _very much broken_ ) alive and well. When the judge, jury, and executioner face them amidst the courtroom, they are let off with a broken country with a deposed ruler executed.

Once upon a time is a series of government uprisings, of the people purging themselves of ruthless ideologies until they are left with tradition and what it is to be who they really are.

Once upon a time ends with a threadbare feeling of hope and salvation.

* * *

The story doesn't start with a "once upon a time" anymore because it's no longer a story. It's his life now. His eyes are still a bright forest green, but on those days when the present becomes too much, when he remembers the past, of those failed "once upon a times", his eyes become dark. These are the eyes of a man who has seen too much, dreams too much, and has worked too much for an unimaginable amount of time. These are the eyes of a nation who is old, impossibly so. He has outlived his predecessor, has outlived old enemies, of numerous siblings and comrades. He is old, _older_ , _**ancient**_. And still, he _**lives**_.

His body is riddled with scars (past gunshot wounds, of entries and exits characterized by exploding shrapnel, cauterized and newly healed skin), but his arms are still strong; legs, still sturdy. Sun kissed and tan, he is still a rural laborer who takes pride in his orchards and gardens.

The war is long gone, but that doesn't mean all is well.

There are still those who dream far too big and do too little.

There are still those who seek to build, but in the process destroy.

And there are those, like him (and perhaps he might be the only one), who doesn't dream. No, he decides to bask and take things as they come in this long, long, ancient life.

For how can he dream when it has already been made a **reality**?

* * *

 **Historical References**

 _ **Note**_ : I am neither a historian nor an Italian (so if there is something wrong with the title, please correct me!). While some research has been done, I am more than open to changes in interpretation and criticism concerning the history presented in this fic. Also, there are a lot of headcanons in play here, please take them with a grain of salt.

 **This is shortly after the Romans captured Naples** (this is what I, and most others, headcanon _Italia Romano_ to have originated) from the Samnites and then made a Roman colony.

 **After the collapse of the Roman Empire** (last Roman Emperor Romulus Augustus is defeated by the German Goth Odoacer, which heralds the start of the Dark Ages).

 ** _Italia Romano_** has now expanded his power and influence over Sicily, so he is now renamed the _Kingdom of Sicily_. At this point in time both the French and Spanish are disputing over parts of Southern Italy. (Also, Romano is displaying symptoms of chorea—which is canon).

 ** _Risorgimento_** , or the period of Italian Reunification. At this time period, the Italian states are being united, a lengthy process that spans 1815-1871.

 **There are references to both World War I and World War II.** The first paragraph is what happens in the aftermath of WWI, while the rest of this snippet describes how the southern half of Italy sided with the Allies, which led to Italy being left off easy. Also, there are references to Benito Mussolini's death.

 **Present Day** : Southern Italy has a lot of problems. Organized crime, unemployment rates, and an economic recession.


End file.
